Beautiful
by Dinadette
Summary: It had started quite innocently, or at least this would be what they told themselves. The Professor (Sergio) is Berlin's (Andres) perfect little wifey. -typos gone, poof!-


It had started quite innocently, or at least this would be what they told themselves.

Sergio was always the perfect little cook, keeping the house in order as Andres didn't care one bit, didn't even seem to notice the mess, as long as his clothes were perfectly pressed and impeccable. He would tease him sometimes, finding him cleaning or preparing pasta the way his partisan grandfather had learned in Italy along with their song, token of their friendship – or whatever it was. He would call him his little housewife, Princess, or bella, his eyes twinkling in amusement. Sergio would be embarrassed, vaguely laughing it off. Until it stopped being so fun for both of them.

The situation started to sink in, and Sergio, who was a master at deciphering people – if not himself – knew that the statu quo wouldn't remain forever. He had seen Andres watching porn, staring at the dick more than the cunt. He had seen Andres making out, staring at him, detailing his reactions, almost daring him to…

He wasn't completely innocent. A man wouldn't be wishing he was in his friend's embrace, tasting his lips and tongue. Nor would he obsess over the way his fist was coming and going, up and down, quicker and quicker, around his length until he bit his lip and almost silently came all over his hand. And normal friends probably wouldn't be doing this around each other…

One night, more as a joke, or a bet, than a gift, Andres had brought him an apron. Useful for his saucy, Italian cooking, but definitely not suited for male anatomy. He had worn it anyway, over his shirt and dress pants, and his friend had laughed, the mirth not reaching his eyes. Sergio thought something would have snapped that night, but nothing happened, and he was blessedly relieved and horribly disappointed.

The apron had almost become his new normal, wearing it around for chores, so he had been surprised when two strong hands took a hold of his waist while he was standing in front of his simmering sauce.

« What 'you doing tonight ? », Andres asked, and Sergio almost replied marinara before he knew better. He inhaled sharply, then shivering, as the hands didn't let go and were joined by a warm, open mouth running along his neck.

« Beautiful », he heard, and wondered if this was about the food or himself. At least one of those would get gobbled up tonight.

He wanted to bring up that he wasn't a woman, even in that apron, but he couldn't bear the thought of losing the embrace, the mouth… Oh God, the mouth… He turned toward his friend's face to speak, only for those hot lips to bite strong onto his own, silencing him just in case.

« I'm not a fag », Andres said harshly as he let go, finally. « I like girls ». His voice was low and rough, his hands rougher around his waist, trailing to his hips. Sergio moaned in agreement. He would agree to anything at the moment. « Short skirts ». His hands played at the apron, teasing and rubbing the material. It did look like a skirt at least from the front, Sergio mused, and he couldn't believe this was why…

« Long hair », he went on. A hand found a strand, pulling it, and a fist grabbed hard when Sergio whined. Andres pressed against him and unsurprisingly he found him hard. He was hard too, probably since he had been called beautiful. He should hate it, but he didn't. You could call a man beautiful, technically. It wasn't like pretty, or… Bella. A hand sneaked toward his belt, unzipped his fly, carefully avoiding his hard on. Andres was old school like that. Sergio swore, hating that too. He wanted to be polite, in control. He wanted Andres' hand until he came apart at the seams from being stimulated… But he would take whatever he was given, or more like, what Andres would. He told himself bitterly that nowadays most women wore pants, actually, and though his friend was the type to like traditional female outfits, he could just think…

« Fuck », he muttered again as he felt fresh air on his buttocks, his pants and underwear low on his knees. Andres was too far gone to seem to mind and try to shush him up. He vaguely wondered if he was going to just fuck him raw, imagining that as a woman he didn't need help on that topic, or if he was going to slather both of them up in Italian pure virgin olive oil. He chuckled at the thought and it went unnoticed because Andres was spitting in his hand and from what he could discern, masturbating in the wetness. He tried to look over his shoulder and have a better view of his friend's pleasure, but hardly had time as the blunt head found itself just right against the ring of muscle and he tensed.

« Bend over », Andres ordered. Sergio just couldn't cooperate that far. « Bend over for me, love. You… can't leave me this way ». It was always the same with him. Tenderness and guilt trips. He hated him, he thought, but he moved forward because he couldn't bear the thought of not having this.

Andres groaned as if he was the one in pain when he penetrated him, and maybe he was, too, because he was so tight and obviously untouched, unused. He didn't move for some time until Sergio squeezed and then he was all over, grabbing at him, moaning – Andres was always silent when he jerked off or fucked, not that Sergio should have paid attention – and this was obviously doing it for both of them because Sergio was whining too, helplessly writhing and pushing back against him, trying to grab at his hand or caress him as he could.

« Turn around », Andres said, and Sergio immediately feared that it would break the spell. Would it even be possible to imagine him as a woman if he did… ? He didn't obey so Andres, instead of repeating, just pulled out which caused him to moan at the loss, and forcefully turned him around, his eyes devouring him from his face to his dick. Which was hard, leaking already. Which Sergio had not noticed before that.

Andres pushed him toward the kitchen table, away from the stove. He picked him up effortlessly and sat him down on the table, planning to take him that way. Until another idea came over him and he smiled, feral. Sergio found himself lying down on the table, afraid that something would fall and crash and be spoiled, but it didn't happen. Andres helped him push his legs up and kissed him just where he ached, leaking, tasting his precum and humming around his length. Sergio almost jumped up, startled, but his friend's hands pinned him to the table as he was feasting over him. He was disturbingly gifted at it. Sergio could notice it despite his lack of experience. A few girlfriends, a couple handjobs with not so much enthusiasm, even fewer blow jobs… Certainly no one eating him alive, and trailing down to his…

« No ! », he exclaimed, but he simply goaded him to open his legs and descended on his perineum, laving and nibbling, his dick painful against his stomach and that mouth, much too talented, kissing and licking at his asshole. It was disgusting, as an idea, and yet his hips were bucking and he thought he might come just from being eaten out. Like a woman.

He had done this to a couple girls, never too pleased about the taste, and it seemed the technique was utterly different on a man, though the idea remained the same. The wet, nimble tongue was reaching inside now and his hand lost itself in Andres' hair, something he never allowed himself to do with the girlfriends. He shamefully pushed his ass onto his face, and the other laughed.

« Want to finish that way ? », Andres asked. The sound, the vibrations, the idea… His ring started contracted on its own, and a hand lazily found his dick, circling it and poking at it, and his moans were non stop now. He wondered how it would be to kiss Andres there, to choke around his length, to have him lose control and grab his hair and force his release deep into his mouth.

The hand grabbed harder at him, pulling and rubbing up and down, quick quick quick… Andres hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard at his hole and Sergio just lost it, shrieking as he pushed back into his face, his hand certainly hurting him but all he could feel was his semen, ribbons and ropes of pleasure… When he finally realized that it was over, and that Andres was lazily licking him clean, he blushed hard. As if anticipating the shame, Andres kept pinning him down.

« I… want to do that to you… », Sergio pleaded, unable to meet his eyes, and though he shivered, his lover's answer came from above, slightly biting.

« Nah, I know girls need this but guys just prefer… ». Standing straight again, he made a show of licking at his lips. Sergio wondered if he was still hard and had his answer soon enough, when he all but slipped inside.

« So wet for me, beautiful », he praised, a hand trailing over his flank, and Sergio keened, getting hard from the words at least as much as the feeling of being taken, stretched and owned. He started a quick pace, setting thust after thrust and told him to touch himself when he noticed him half hard. Sergio was shy, but far too aroused to refuse, though a hand had to strictly grab his chin to avoid him looking away. He bit his lip and made a mess again just before the pulsing drew Andres in further, out of breath.

« Deal with it, I'm not pulling out », he defied, and Sergio pondered that since he wasn't a girl – not really – it wasn't such a big deal but the thought made him twitch even though he was spent, just before his friend's orgasm took over. Andres moaned and swore and grabbed at him, emptying himself loudly into him. He had definitely never saw him in such a state of arousal.

He was so affected Sergio thought he was going to fall or at the very least lean down onto him. But he didn't, breathing hard, and even found the strength to rearrange his hair. He didn't have to force his thighs apart this time, and he watched as his friend started leaking. He briefly massaged the area, before bringing his finger to Sergio's lips. He tasted both their pleasures on it and moaned.

« Good girl », Andres smiled darkly. « Now go back to your cooking ».


End file.
